The Iron Price
by Lilibethe
Summary: After being forced from her home and into marriage at the tender age of six, Victaria Greyjoy must learn not only what it means to forgive, but also what it means to pay the iron price. AU. Rated M. (Robb/OC)
**Prologue**
 _289 AC, Pyke_

The sky was shrouded with dark smoke, and the air carried the putrid scent of death. The young girl of six stood on her tip-toes, just barely able to peer out the foggy glass pane to see the devastation that transpired the evenfall prior. There were still dead bodies lying about that the soldiers hadn't buried or burned, which were slowly being torn apart by a flock of gulls. Her chest grew tight as she watched the blood-stained beasts feast on the corpses below, her eyes flashing across the lifeless faces strewn across the coastline. Some of the men were strangers, but some she'd known.

One, whose eyes had been torn out by a sea gull, had once ridden with her to her uncles keep, Ten Towers. He'd had a kind face, and even called her a pretty lass, once. Now his remains lay decaying by the beach. She leaned in closer, looking for any other familiar faces, but screamed and fell on her bottom instead when a bird flew directly into the glass, leaving a jagged crack along the horizon.

"Victaria, what are you doing by the window?" Asha snapped, whipping her head around to see her younger sister scrambling for her footing. "Foolish child, come sit by the hearthfire. Father will return soon enough without you wandering about searching for him."

Slowly, Victaria gathered her skirts and went to the place where her siblings sat. Theon was huddled by the flames, holding his hands out to be warmed. Asha was leaning against their father's bedframe, her short, dark hair reflecting the golden flicker of the firelight. "Sit _down_ , girl," her sister commanded, snapping her finger and pointing to the barren space beside Theon.

Before she could follow her elder sister's orders, a distant clanking of boots began to storm the hall. Within an instant, Theon reached out and grabbed Victaria, pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, whilst scooting closer to Asha, who grabbed at the dagger hidden in her bootstrap. Father had told them to be on their guard, that if their forces were to fail bad men might try to take them away. The idea frightened Victaria, and she curled into her brother, pursing her lips as the knob to the bedchamber turned and the heavy oaken door was shoved open.

The first thing to catch her eye was the flash of cloth-of-silver that draped behind the intruder's shoulders, flowing like a silken wave of snow with each small movement the man made. He had a stern, long face with cold, grey eyes. His hair, as black as a raven's wing, was tied back with a thong of leather, and his skin looked as worn and beaten as an old ship's sail. "The're here, Your Grace," the man shouted down the hall, his eyes never leaving them.

"Stay back," Asha hissed as he stepped forwards, "or I'll have you gutted faster than you could cry for your _usurper_ king."

The man sneered. "Girls shouldn't play with knives," he replied quickly, taking another step closer.

"And green boys shouldn't dress as soldiers," her sister spat back, pulling Theon and Victaria closer with a single sweep of her arm. "Now leave us in peace!"

The door, which had slowly swung shut, was kicked down with such force that it broke from its hinges and came crashing onto the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt. What seemed like fifteen men charged inside, all bearing steel that shined white in the daylight. "Put down your blade, child!" one of them ordered, but Asha was persistent, shaking her head. "I said lay down your weapon!"

" _No_!" she screamed, and when Victaria looked up at her elder sister, she could see the panic, the fear, the terror in her eyes that she knew Asha would never admit she was feeling; because there was also bravery shining there, and courage. She would lay down her _life_ before ever willingly laying down her dagger.

The sound of their father's voice echoing in the hall was enough to catch the three children's attention, and they all turned to the door, angling their heads to see through it as best they could. The sound of heavy feet being dragged against cold stone carried through the room, and Victaria nearly burst into tears to see her father, shackled and beaten bloody, being pulled through the doorway by the loops of his chained arms. "Listen to them, girl," he commanded, and without a second thought Asha dropped her knife.

" _Father_ ," Theon breathed, his grip deathly tight on Victaria's shoulders.

More footsteps echoed in the hall, and Victaria watched as two more men entered. The first was taller and clearly the more commandeering of the two. He waved away the other soldiers, save the first soldier, who now stood stagnant in the doorway. The second fell into place a few feet behind the first. He had grey eyes and brown hair and a solemn face, while the other, the first man, had blue eyes and black hair and a stern scowl etched into his features. His harsh gaze befell each of the Greyjoy children, then he nodded to the man who stood in the doorway. "Take the youngest and the boy. The eldest he can keep."

"Yes, Your Grace," the soldier said, stepping forward.

"Wait, Robert," the solemn man interrupted. "Must we take the girl? She is not his heir, she is of no use to you."

The man, Robert, looked back to his companion. "No use? How else will we keep this rebel in line, Ned? The girl will wed your son, and the boy will be your ward. It is the only way to secure an alliance."

"The only way, truly? I believe just having his heir will be sufficient, Your Grace." The softer man's eyes befell Victaria then, and she could see a hint of pity in them. "She is only a child, and my son is little older."

"Better they be wed young," the black-haired man replied dismissively. Then he looked to the soldier and nodded once more. "Take them to the ship."

"Your Grace..."

"I'll hear no more of it, Ned! See it done or I'll do it myself." With that their father was dragged away, flexing his jaw in anger, and the two men took their leave. The soldier remained behind, and once the path was clear he made his way towards them.

"No!" Asha screamed, tightening her grip on Victaria and Theon. "No, _no_! Leave them be, you brute!" He flung their sister's grasp away as easily as one might swat at a fly. His hold, worsened by cold, silver gauntlets, cut into Victaria's waist as he hoisted her into the air and over his shoulder. He grabbed Theon's hair and pulled him along, and Victaria kicked at his breastplate, begging him to let her brother go.

"You're _hurting_ him," she sobbed, snot and tears dripping in globs down the back of his bloodied armor. "Please, he'll be _good_ , we _both_ will, just let him go! _Please_!"

Asha tried to chase after them, but once they'd reached the main hall another guard grabbed her shoulders and held her in place with vicious force.

The castle echoed with the terrified screams of all three children, and as they passed Victaria noticed the servants were crying, too. As they were brought passed the great hall, she thought she caught a gleam of pain in her father's eyes, who was forced to watch on as she and Theon were toted off. " _Papa_ ," she cried out to him, grabbing at the air between them, "Papa, _help_ me!"

"Do as your told, child," Balon Greyjoy called out to his daughter. "Never forget our words!"

"We do not sow," Victaria choked out through her weeping.

Her father was about to say something else, but one of the soldiers who was holding him up bashed his forehead with the hilt of his blade. She tried to wriggle out of the grasp of her kidnapper, but failed, altogether being too weak to even crane her neck back fully. When they were finally out of the castle, the cold air hit her like the sharp edge of a knife, cutting into her lungs each time she inhaled. It stopped her sobbing; it simply hurt too much. But she still kicked and fought and reached for her brother's hand. She could see the faintest bit of blood where the man's gauntlet had torn out some of his hair.

"It's okay," Theon coughed out, trying his best to sooth her even though there were hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "It'll be okay. We're alright, Victaria." They were thrown onto the deck of a ship, leaving both of them wheezing from the impact. Theon crawled towards Victaria and grabbed her hand, pulling himself closer to her. He ran a hand over her curls and pressed his lips to her forehead. "They won't hurt us, they won't hurt us."

"Papa," Victaria cried, "I want _Papa_."

" _I'm_ here," Theon breathed, gasping for air as they were pulled up and dragged towards the lower cabins. "I won't leave you," he promised, "I'll stay with you, I swear it."

"Put them in separate rooms," came a deep voice. They both looked up to see the blue-eyed, stern-faced man from before. King Robert. "Won't have any conspiracies cropping up while they sail for the North."

" _No_!" Victaria pleaded. "Please, I don't _want_ to be alone!" The idea of being confined in a chamber all to her lonesome frightened her. She needed Theon, her big brother. She needed him to dry her tears and tell her it would be okay. She needed him more than anything.

The king frowned. "It is not a pretty world, girl," he barked at her. "The sooner you discover that, the better." He muttered something quickly to the guard that was escorting them, then he left. Victaria watched, mortified, as Theon receive a blow to his chest for trying to run towards her, and her tears began to fall anew. They went obediently enough after that, but once she was thrown into a dark, damp cell she began to feel the panic rise. She screamed and shouted and banged her little fists on the door until they were bloody with splinters and scrapes. She wanted to be _free_. She wanted to run to her father and jump into his arms. She wanted Asha to be there to hold her in the night.

But something told her that she wouldn't receive any such treatment. Not now, not ever again. As she backed into the corner of her cold chamber, she began to feel the ship rock back and forth and realized that she would never see her father or Asha or Pyke ever again. They'd set sail, and there was no turning back. She wanted to claw through the wooden siding of the ship, and jump out so she might swim home, but instead she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. _I am a Greyjoy, and we do not sow_ , she reminded herself. _We are strong, we pay the iron price, and we do not sow. We do not sow_. The words replayed in her mind half a hundred times before, exhausted and defeated, she began to fall asleep.

 _We do not sow, we do not sow_.


End file.
